


The Difference Between Infatuation and Love

by scifi



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 07:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2419430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifi/pseuds/scifi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rose comforts the Doctor<br/>(Set just after The Girl In The Fireplace)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Difference Between Infatuation and Love

“He even has a swimming pool!” Mickey let out a yelp of amusement as he raced into the room. It wasn’t any old swimming pool that he had laid his eyes on, it was a proper hundred meters lined with water fountains, spa’s, diving boards, with a sky view of the stars. “I think the last time I swam was when we went to the crummy indoor heated pool last year. Boy, that is nothing compared to this!”

“Come on Mickey,” Rose grabbed his shoulder to stop him from bouncing out of her reach, “We still have the observatory, games room and half the bloody ship to go, well at least half of what I know we have.”

“But the pool!” Mickey persisted, “Oh Rose, who cares about the tour? I want to swim!”

Rose had to force a smile not to pop up on her face, getting rid of Mickey was definitely high on her to-do list and she was laughing if she let this opportunity go astray. She pretended to be exasperated at him, “Go swim then, do you remember your way back?”

“Yes boss,” Mickey grinned and in a flash he raced towards the glistening pool, pulling his shirt off in time to dive into the pristine and hardly touched water.

Rolling her eyes, Rose left him to his own devices and went off in a TARDIS exploration of her own. She passed doors that lead to unknown places and those more familiar to her. The observatory, library, garden, and her own bedroom all swept past her until she halted in front of a rusty golden door half open, golden light pooled out into the corridor from inside. In the heat of exploration, Rose pushed past the door to find her nose overpowered by the scent of various paints. She was most definitely in an art room, paint splattered the floor and canvases were piled around her. Some were finished and some yet to be completed yet all were magnificent. In the golden light of the room she could see a familiar figure standing in front of a canvas, his usual brown suit discarded in favour of a plain white t-shirt and denim jeans. Not wanting to disturb him, Rose walked up to him quietly until she came to stand beside him so she could observe his current work in progress.

“Is that-” Rose began.

“Yes,” the Doctor cut her off short, his hand delicately stroking the watercolour paint onto the canvas.

Rose didn’t reply straight away, she watched as the Doctor paid full attention to his painting, brown eyes squinted and lips slightly parted in full concentration. Even though he looked as if he had barely started his art, Rose could already see its beauty and resemblance to the latest person in the long line that the Doctor had met and lost. He was painting Madame de Pompadour, the French woman that in a matter of hours they had watched her whole life pass. “She loved you,” Rose commented as she watched the Doctor work, no hint of jealously or snide caught her tone, she only said it as a simple passing remark.

Though the Doctor didn’t take it fleetingly. He paused in his painting, brush lifting off canvas and eyes growing cold. “Yeah,” was all he managed to say.

Rose flinched as he said the single word, “Did you?”

The Doctor turned his head to face her, eyes cold as he asked, “What is it to you?”

The words were delivered with an icy finish that made Rose want to step back out of the Doctor’s reach though determination kept her standing in her place. “It was just a question, you are obviously upset and I just wanted to see if I could help.”

“Well you can’t so don’t,” the Doctor turned back to the painting, continuing to gently stroke colour onto canvas.

“Doctor,” Rose reached out to touch his arm. Her own hazel eyes were filled with worry, “Talk to me, please.”

“There is a difference between infatuation and love, Rose Tyler. If we are going to talk I suggest that you understand that,” the Doctor placed his paintbrush on the table and lead her to a paint stained couch close by. They both sat down though several inches remained between them. “What is there to say?”

“There are a lot of things,” Rose pointed out.

“Like?”

“Did you love her?” Rose persisted.

“Are you jealous?” the Doctor asked only to be met with a silent Rose. “But no, remember the difference between infatuation and love? To see her whole life fly by in a matter of hours, she was a puzzle that intrigued me. She loved me but no, I never reciprocated that feeling.”

Rose bit her lip, “Could you though? If you did get trapped without an escape, living your days in France with her?”

The Doctor looked at her, “There was always a chance, nothing is entirely impossible Rose Tyler, and you should know that by now.”

“Some could beg to differ,” Rose chuckled hollowly, head leaning back on the couch so she could study the cream ceiling. “Why are you so sad?”

The Doctor sighed, leaning his head back the same as Rose, “I have lived such a long time, the faces I have seen, the people I have met and the people I have lost. I have lost count, there’s been so many.”

Looking over to the Doctor, Rose asked, “But the people you have lost, they still exist somewhere right? The TARDIS can take you to a point in time where those you have lost are still alive. So in a way no one is really dead.”

“But they are,” the Doctor bounced back, “they are so very dead when taking time into a linear view. They are the past, they are gone, I have to move on,”

“The curse of the Time lords,” Rose remembered a conversation not so long ago where he had told her a similar tale. They drifted into silence then, the two of them sitting in silence, tension filled the room making the air hard to breath and even harder to think. “Why would I be jealous?” Rose blurted out, shredding the silence like a knife.

The Doctor grinned and flipped his body so he was facing her, “Because you always do whenever another person fancies me. Don’t act as if you don’t know what I’m talking about because you know all too well. The way you squint or frown when someone else flirts with me or huff about when I might take interest in someone else. I see it Rose Tyler, the jealousy alive in her eyes. You want me as yours and only yours, you can’t stand the idea of the love I had before or that I might come across during our times together.”

Rose’s cheeks turned redder than the petals of her namesake and she sat straight up, turning her body away from the Doctor, “Even if that was how I felt, why would it matter to you?”

The Doctor sat up and moved closer to Rose so their legs touched, “You keep forgetting what I said just before. There is a difference between infatuation and love.”

“And why does that matter?”

“Because you should know by now which one you are to me,” The Doctor reached for Rose’s hand. She wanted to pull away but she craved his comforting touch.

“Even so, there are some impossibilities that truly are impossible,” she whispered, turning her head to face him; hazel eyes glistened with regret of ever walking through the door.

“You should know better than that,” the Doctor chided and in that moment his control had switched off, the force behind what had kept him from acting out of love had vanished. All he knew at that single moment in time was that he had Rose Tyler and Rose Tyler had him. That was all either of them needed and in that moment, on a paint stained couch, the Doctor leant over and kissed his blonde companion on the lips. At first his kiss was light but was quickly reciprocated by Rose who kissed back with more passion. The two of them, lips locked and arms wrapping around each other’s bodies, pulling them ever closer to each other, held onto the moment they had created, lips never wanting to part until lungs seared for air. Even when the kiss was broken, they rested their foreheads onto each other’s, eyes were closed and they stayed speechless until both their starved lungs quit complaining. “Are you still adamant on the definition of impossible?” the Doctor mused.

“Still needs some persuading,” Rose murmured, lightly kissing the Doctor on the lips after each word.

“I can do that,” the Doctor replied, kissing Rose tenderly. Somewhere in his mind he had a voice telling him to stop, to back away and wipe her memory from the last few minutes, to forget they had shared those kisses. He ignored the small voice in his mind and went with his gut feelings. With more passion than before, the Doctor kissed Rose, she let her hands get woven in his hair and he let his hands wander up and down her back. His lips moved from her mouth to her neck, finding her sweet spot before sucking on her sensitive skin, delighted in the pleasurable moan that escape from Rose’s lips as he did. Knowing that he would most definitely leave a bruise, the Doctor continued, lips leaving a damp trail from her neck to collarbone which was where he paused, mouth hovering over her skin before becoming eye level once more. “Rose Tyler, I am either going to make the best or worst decision of my life and it will probably be the latter but would you dance with me?”

It took a moment for her to remember the analogy and when she did, Rose’s eyes grew wide in surprise, her hazel eyes shocked as she looked into the Doctor’s own brown. It took her several long moments to realise that she wasn’t daydreaming and that he was being serious. It was the impossibility that she had always thought would stay impossible yet here they were, being serious and most definitely real. “Yes,” she whispered her reply before pulling the Doctor down as she leant back on the couch, deep kisses and tender caresses followed by the best and worst decision either of them ever made.


End file.
